A Matter of Choice
by Brave November
Summary: A few chapters set after the escape from the Leviathan, in which Revan comes to terms with the convoluted mess of her life.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** This is the least humorous thing I've tried to write, and that leaves me very nervous about its quality. Many thanks to The Hodge Podge Kid for beta reading and offering constructive criticism.

* * *

_How could I not see it?_

Carth tried to ignore the thought, but it burrowed into his brain like a parasite. He stared at the console, unable to concentrate; he took his pistols to the workbench, methodically field-stripped and cleaned them; he lay in his bunk and stared at the bulkhead thinking _Revan. _Over and over, replaying Saul's last words, Bastila's admission, and Revan's own acknowledgment.

"_I'm Revan." Her voice deathly quiet, resigned; her face expressionless. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"_

_No,_ thought Carth sourly. But he hadn't been able to disbelieve Saul's words, even for a second. As soon as he had heard his dying mentor's last, victorious sneer, the world had shifted and a thousand little details came together to make a very clear picture. That he had seen them and somehow disregarded them made him feel like the lowest kind of fool. _I should have seen it. Why didn't I see it?_

Eventually, he gave up trying to sleep. He had to see her again—look at her with open eyes, try to understand how he'd missed it before. _She'll be in the engine room. She's always there during flights. The sound of the engines makes her feel at home. . . _He pushed the memory of that conversation out of his mind and reached for his boots. He couldn't think about anything that had happened before—none of the teasing or the flirting, none of the times she'd confided in him or he in her. He couldn't think about her as if she were still the same person.

She was wedged into her favorite corner, leaning against the wall and staring at nothing. She'd abandoned Jedi robes for her old scout's uniform, and her lightsaber was nowhere in sight. She looked up at him blankly and said nothing. She hadn't said a word to him or anyone else since right after they'd escaped the _Leviathan_. He didn't know what to say to her anymore, either.

"We'll arrive at Kashyyyk in a few hours," he said at last, when the silence got too uncomfortable. "It should be safe enough to land there for repairs."

She nodded. "I need to realign the targeting sensors. They seemed off." She looked vaguely in his direction, her eyes losing focus after a few seconds.

"Don't you think you should get some sleep?" The words came out grudgingly, sounding more like an accusation than anything else.

"Not really," she admitted with a shrug. "There wouldn't be much point." She smiled humorlessly. "Was there anything else you needed? Or were you just checking to make sure I didn't plan to slaughter the whole crew?"

Once, she would've been sarcastic, indignant, maybe even angry. But now she spoke without inflection, as if she knew the words should be said but couldn't remember the intent behind them.

"Can you blame me?" he asked, attempting to provoke a spark of personality from her.

"Not really," she said again. "It's your nature to take precautions. But you're safe enough for now." She turned her head to the wall, obviously dismissing him. Carth stared at her, dumbfounded. Whatever he had expected, it wasn't this. The woman before him seemed. . . hollow. Shell-shocked. If she'd been one of his soldiers, he would have refused to leave her alone until he managed to pull her out of that emptiness and back into life.

But this was _Revan._

_Maybe emptiness is better._

So he left her, trying to ignore the nagging thought that he was abandoning a friend. _Maybe she just needs time alone, _he told himself_. She always spends a little while turning things over in her mind before. .__ ._ He slammed his fist against the bulkhead in annoyance._ Don't imagine you still know her_, he scolded himself. _She's not the same person._

He sighed. He wasn't going to get any sleep, either. He headed for the cockpit, hoping that maybe the swirling chaos of hyperspace would calm his mind.

"Can't sleep either, huh?" Jolee's words startled him as he passed the medical room. The old Jedi was organizing his medicines, rearranging the herbs in some complex order that made sense only to him. "Not surprising after all that's happened."

Carth stopped short, a new wave of bitterness flooding him. "It shouldn't be much of a problem for you, should it?" he said, staring at the old man. "You already knew."

Jolee frowned at the unidentifiable plant in his hands. "We old folk sometimes have trouble staying asleep. Maybe because we don't have enough time left to waste it snoring. You'll find out someday, if you're lucky."

Carth crossed his arms. "You could have said something."

"Could have? Yeah," Jolee acknowledged. "Should have? Not a chance."

"What the hell do you mean?" Carth demanded. "We've been flying around the Outer Rim trying to save the Republic with a _Sith Lord! _Don't you think we had a right to know that?"

"Keep your voice down!" Jolee snapped, and Carth realized that he was nearly shouting. "Just because you can't sleep doesn't mean you have to wake the entire ship." Carth gave him a hostile look, and the other man sighed. "Fine, fine. Settle down and don't cause any more of a ruckus and we can talk."

Carth leaned against the wall. "I'm listening."

"Well, first of all," Jolee began, "and I know this might be hard for a young hothead like yourself to understand, but there are certain situations that just aren't any of my business."

"None of your business," Carth repeated flatly.

"Over the years, I've noticed that sometimes, interfering does more harm than good," said the old man calmly. "I figured this was one of those times." He cut off Carth's objection with a raised hand. "Would any of you have believed me if I told you?" he asked. "Well, maybe you would. You're paranoid." Carth opened his mouth to argue, but the Jedi ignored him. "Imagine it: an old man you barely know babbling on about how your sweetheart is really a dead Sith Lord?" He chuckled. "_I_ wouldn't have believed me."

"She's not-" Carth tried to interject.

"What do you think would have happened if I told Sereyna herself?" Jolee continued, still sifting through the herbs. "Maybe the knowledge would have poisoned her against the Jedi Council. Destroyed her friendships with Bastila and Juhani. Given her even more reason to doubt herself. What good would that do any of us?" He shook his head. "And of course, the Jedi Order wouldn't have been too happy with me if I spoiled their little plan—not that that was ever my biggest worry. Besides, I knew it was bound to get out eventually. Secrets this big never stay secret."

Carth wanted to argue, but he couldn't deny that the old man's words made a good deal of sense. He forced himself to ignore his own sense of betrayal, to look at the bigger picture, and nodded reluctantly. "All right," he said. "I guess I can see your point. I probably wouldn't have believed you before Saul and Bastila told me." He sighed. "When did you know?"

"Well, I suspected it before we left Kashyyyk," Jolee said carelessly. "I was there when she found the Star Map, you know. I saw how she interacted with it."

Carth shook his head. He felt weary and rather stupid. "At least we found four of the Star Maps before she found out. I just wish I knew what we should do now."

Jolee rolled his eyes. "Go after the last one, of course," he said.

"But now that Revan is. . .well, Revan. . .how is that going to work? What if she decides to turn on the Republic?" For all her faults, Sereyna never would have. But Revan could be capable of anything.

"She still has to find the last Star Map if she doesn't want to be crushed by Malak," Jolee pointed out. "So you might as well go along with her. And if she makes the wrong choice, you can always kill her. . .or die trying."

Carth stared at him. The old Jedi looked back serenely. "I can't tell whether or not you're joking," the younger man said eventually, "and I'm not sure which one is worse."

"Heh." Jolee smiled. "Old men—especially old hermits with Force powers—are supposed to be cryptic. It's in the rules." He brushed crumpled leaves into a crude pouch and stowed it somewhere in his robes. "To be honest, I have no idea what's going to happen now. That's all up to Sereyna."

"Revan," Carth corrected him. He couldn't afford to think of her as anything else now. _Sereyna died on the Leviathan, and Revan took her place._ It made about as much sense as anything. "She seemed pretty calm," he said cautiously, "but I think she's just in shock. I'm kind of worried about what will happen when it wears off."

"Oh, she'll come talk to me," Jolee said wearily. "Probably ask me all the questions you just did. It's always the same—whenever you young people get into really bad trouble, you go to the old-timer for advice. And then you usually ignore it, but I can't be blamed for that." He looked resigned.

"Well. . .if there's anybody who can help her, it's you," Carth said grudgingly. _I know I can't._ "She respects you more than any other Jedi she's met."

Jolee looked startled. "She told you that, did she?" He sounded pleased. "Well, that's something. I guess she could do worse." He frowned, his eyes focusing on something only he could see. "Looks like she's finally coming out of her sulk," he said, relief coloring his voice. He waved a hand at Carth, shooing him from the room. "Get out of here before you scare her off, will you? You're the last person she wants to see."

"Thanks," said Carth sourly. He was halfway down the hall before it occurred to him that Jolee might have been serious. He turned on his heel. "Why is that?"

"You are dim, aren't you?" Jolee said impatiently. "She's too afraid of the answer to ask the question yet."

"What-"

"Out!"

Throwing his hands in the air, Carth retreated back to the cockpit. He wanted to dismiss Jolee's words, but he knew they would stay with him. _What question? What answer? _He sighed. _Jedi and their damned puzzles. _Maybe if the Council had told them when this all started. . .or maybe if Bastila had taken him aside and warned him. . .

_I could have kept a proper distance. I wouldn't have let myself get too close. _But he had, and now. . .now everything was a mess.


	2. Chapter 2

Sereyna closed her eyes and tried to listen to the engines. She wanted their hum to sink into her skull, drown out all of her thoughts, lull her to sleep. But for the first time since she could remember—_which really isn't that long_—it wasn't working. Her mind kept twisting, jumping from one thought to another until she was dizzy with the effort of following it.

She'd barely managed to keep her calm facade in place for Carth-

_Y__ou were right all along_, she'd wanted to say. _You told me nobody was trustworthy. . .and here I am, your point proven, in the flesh._

-but she'd managed to keep her face smooth and her voice even until he went away.

_All this time, I wanted to earn your trust. Ah, Carth. I think the universe hates you._

She clenched already sore jaws against a burst of bitter laughter. She _refused _to lose control. No hysterics from Sereyna-turned-Revan. It would only worry everybody.

She shifted a little to pull herself into the cross-legged pose of Jedi meditation. She'd never had much luck with it before, but nothing else was working either. She tried to remember how she'd felt on Dantooine, that one moment of perfect awareness when she'd managed to hold every object in the room aloft with only her will.

_There is no emotion, there is peace-_

-But she'd never really believed that. There was always some emotion jumping and snarling inside her. Peace only came with complete exhaustion or utter resignation, and she couldn't find either, though she should have succumbed to one or the other by now-

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge-_

-She could almost laugh at that. All this time she thought she'd been learning from the Jedi Masters and Bastila, and they'd been lying to her, manipulating her, using her-

_There is no passion-_

The words rang hollow in her mind. Sereyna opened her eyes and stared down at her hands. Her fingernails had made half-moon marks in her palms. She forced her fists to unclench, stretched her fingers. Her muscles jumped and flexed beneath her skin as if they wished to shake it off.

_I am a stranger in my own skin_. She shuddered at the thought. Worse than the lies, worse than being Revan, was the knowledge that everything she thought she had been was a fabrication. Every memory, every feeling, every decision . . ._Was any of it actually mine? Did I really want nothing more than to explore, to see strange stars in the night sky every time I landed somewhere?_

A low gurgle interrupted her thoughts. Her gizka hopped into her lap and peered curiously up at her. It rubbed its head against her chest insistently, and she reached to pet it—then stopped, frowning. _Maybe I don't remember being Revan,_ she thought, _but _she_ wouldn't keep a pet gizka, S__he'd probably break its neck for disturbing her. . ._ It would be a small step—_so very, very small—_towards reclaiming who she had once been. . .

Carefully, Sereyna picked up the little creature and set it aside. "I should have left you on Manaan with the others," she told it, ignoring its imploring gaze. "This was no place for you before, and it certainly isn't now." She got to her feet before the silly thing could worm its way back into her lap. Sitting here wasn't helping, anyway. Her teeth hurt from being clenched and her head ached. "I need answers," she told the gizka. "I need. . .something." But everybody who really knew what had happened to her was gone, killed or captured by the Sith. And she wasn't even sure how she felt about _that_.

The gizka looked at her reproachfully, then hopped away. With a sigh, she left the engine room. Jolee was the only one who might be able to help her make sense of anything, though she wasn't sure how much she trusted him anymore, either. She could sense him puttering about in the medbay. His calm presence only seemed to highlight her own turmoil.

_Maybe some it will rub off on me_, she thought dully.

The self-exiled Jedi was waiting for her. He didn't smile or offer reassurance, and for that she was grateful. The most unnerving thing about finding out she was Revan was the way all of her companions had taken it in stride. _Except for Carth_. But as much as his blatant distrust stung, it was better than the others' calm acceptance. He was the only one who seemed to realize something was wrong.

She sat down on the medical bay's cot and took a deep breath, trying to marshal her thoughts. "You weren't part of the Council or the strike team," she said without preamble. "You've been hiding out on Kashyyyk for the last twenty years. So how did you know?"

"I guessed," Jolee said simply. "It wasn't that hard to figure out."

"Really," she said flatly. "It sure took me by surprise."

"Well, you were in the middle of everything. Running around, trying to save the galaxy from itself. . .I'm not surprised you didn't notice." He shrugged. "From the moment I met you, I knew there was something off about you. You remember I told you that, don't you?"

"Yes." She had been too worried about Zaalbar to give it any thought. "But I thought you were just a crazy hermit at the time." She paused, then added, "Still haven't changed my mind about that," because it was something she would have said before. But she wasn't really teasing him—the words were mere habit, spoken by rote like a part in a play. _ I am pretending to be myself._

"Hmph. Have I ever claimed to be anything else?" Jolee frowned down at her. "There were all sorts of clues," he continued. "Little things that didn't add up. Like how you mastered Jedi training so quickly. Did they say you were some sort of prodigy?"

"They implied it," Sereyna admitted. _Never before have I seen someone progress so quickly_. "I just accepted it. There didn't seem to be any other explanation."

"Uh-huh. I'm sure you weren't flattered, either, not even a little," said Jolee snidely. "Your bond with Bastila was another clue. A connection like that just doesn't come out of nowhere. It can take years to develop, like the bond between master and an apprentice—or a split second, when one person's caught between life and death, and someone else tips the balance back to life."

"How was I supposed to know that?" she said bitterly. "I never even heard of. . .I mean, Sereyna never even heard of bonds like that, and. . ." She faltered. _I can't__ use that name any more__._

"Of course you didn't" he said, his voice taking on a gentler tone. "And the Jedi Council didn't educate you. They just let you assume what they wanted you to." He shook his head disapprovingly. "But my first real clue was back on Kashyyyk. That interface recognized you, and you. . ." He shook his head. "You weren't just giving it the answers you thought it wanted, were you? Some part of you knew."

"Maybe." She looked down at her hands. They'd become fists again. She concentrated on uncurling each finger as she spoke. "The first two questions I could. . .compromise on. But the third question. . ."

Jolee waited. She could almost hear him listening.

"Everything makes much more sense now, you know," she said at last. "Why I can't remember anything but facts about my parents, or any friends I was close to. Most of my memories before Taris are just. . .words and images, with no feelings attached. Like a holovid. I should have known, but I didn't have anything to compare it to." _Emp__ty thoughts, cluttering my mind._

"Was this supposed to be compassion?" she asked bitterly. "This. . .unmaking? Why would the Jedi even _want_ to save Revan?" She looked desperately at Jolee. "You would have killed Revan, wouldn't you? If it was your choice?"

"I wouldn't have tried to save you," he said honestly. "Not my style. But Bastila, now. . .that girl feels more than she lets on. I don't think she had any plans for you, not at first. That must've come later. Even the Jedi have to bow to necessity sometimes."

"Because of the Star Forge."

"That's right," the old Jedi told her. "Fate of the galaxy still depends on you, kid. Sorry about that."

Another thought struck her. "If I'm Revan, I must be older than I thought," she said slowly. "Ten years at least, maybe more."

Jolee snorted. "Ten years, twelve, twenty. . .doesn't matter. You're still a kid to me."

She had to smile at that, though it died quickly. "I wonder why they made me think I was younger. So I would be closer to Bastila? More uncertain of myself, more easily led?"

"Or maybe," her mentor said quellingly, " because twenty-five years of memory were easier to fabricate than forty."

_Forty. I might be forty. _It was a strange detail to fixate on, but now that she'd realized it, she couldn't leave it alone. _I had a whole life as Revan. A whole life as a Jedi._ And less than a year as Sereyna Tahl, Republic scout and adventurer. _There's no reason to cling to that life,_ she thought bleakly. That was what she'd been trying to do by dressing up in her old uniform, setting aside her lightsaber, and hiding in the engine room like a homesick child. _Sulking_, she realized, with a certain amount of disgust.

Sereyna Tahl was gone. And in her place was nothing but a name.

"I don't even know who Revan was," she said hopelessly. "But I want to. Is that wrong?"

"I should probably give you some speech about how what you call yourself isn't important and you can only know yourself through your actions, blah blah blah, etcetera," said Jolee dryly, "but I don't think you'd believe me."

"I wouldn't," she admitted. "I have to know how much of me is. . .me. And how much of me was just. . ." She searched for a word. The only thing she could think of 'reprogrammed.' "Falsified," she said instead, unwilling think of herself as a faulty droid sent for a memory wipe.

"I wouldn't worry about that too much," Jolee told her. "Think about it: if the Council could really change you, they would've done a better job. You haven't exactly been a model little Jedi, have you? Ducking out of docking fees, charging headfirst into problems that were none of your business, flirting with your pilot, insulting a venerable old man. . ." He clicked his tongue in mock reproof. "If there was nothing of Revan left, they wouldn't have needed to watch you so closely."

_Why does that make me feel better? _ "So you're saying I could turn back into Revan if I wanted to—start shooting lightning from my fingertips and killing whole worlds?"

"If you really want to, I don't see how I can stop you," he said philosophically. "Just not right now, okay? I'm enjoying the peace and quiet. Well, I would be, if some young upstart would quit bothering me."

She snorted. "Don't try that on me. You love to hear yourself talk." She slid off the cot and smiled at him, trying to gather enough feeling to make it seem sincere. "Thank you. For giving me some straight answers. I know it couldn't have been easy."

"Well, I see you're getting back to your old self," Jolee said sourly. "Didn't take as long as you thought it would, did it?"

"I mean it," she said, abandoning her half-hearted attempt to tease him. "Thank you."

"Any time, kid," the old Jedi said softly.

She went to the dormitories because she couldn't stand the thought of lurking in Sereyna's old favorite spot any more. Mission was asleep, curled up under her blankets with her _lekku_ spread across the pillow. Quietly, she took off her old uniform, folded it up, and put it at the bottom of her bunk's drawer. She didn't want to put on her Jedi robes, either, so she dug out the jumpsuit she usually wore for heavy maintenance and slipped into it. Maybe it was stupid to worry so much about clothes, but she couldn't help herself.

_Anybody can wear a jumpsuit_, she thought. _It doesn't mean anything. _She'd worry about what to wear later when it happened. _I should've kept the Sand People wrappings, _she thought wryly. A disguise would suit her perfectly right now. After all, she'd been living in one for nearly a year.

She lay down and reached for the cold-calm that she now knew came from her old self, her _real_ self. Revan, she thought, wouldn't worry about who or what she was. She would just be it.

_And I want to be Revan_, she acknowledged. _I want to be myself. __Wrong or right, even if I'm the most evil creature in the galaxy, I _need _to be myself._

_No more lies._

Revan closed her eyes and listened to the engines.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I have even less knowledge of Star Wars technology than I do of Real World technology; hopefully, I didn't make any egregious errors. Again, I usually write (hopefully) humorous one-shots, and this is the first time I've tried to write anything longer or serious, so please tell me if I'm doing it wrong. Thanks again to my beta-reader, The Hodge-Podge Kid.

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"Wake up!" Mission's cheerful voice cut through her dreams, dispelling hazy images of laser fire and black clad Jedi and Saul Karath's sneering face. "We're about to land, Sereyna! Zaalbar says you should be there to meet the other Wookies."

"I'm up," Revan said, shaking her head to clear out the remnants of her nightmares. "Tell him I'll be ready in a few minutes." She was halfway through lacing up one boot when the sheer normality of the situation made her laugh. _I might be Revan, but I still can't sleep and I'm still the ship's translator._ It was almost unbelievable how little things had changed.

She looked at Bastila's empty bunk and sobered immediately. _Or maybe not._ The Jedi's neatly-folded blankets and spare clothes had been crumpled into an untidy heap by the Sith searchers, and her bunk's drawers had been wrenched open and shoved back into their spaces crookedly. Revan knelt beside the bed and pulled one open. Bastila's meager possessions were jumbled together. She started sorting through them: a broken comb, a datapad with a splintered screen, the sticky remains of a shattered soap bottle. . .

"Oh. . .I tried to put everything back," Mission commented. Revan blinked. She had forgotten the girl was still there. "The Sith broke almost everything—all I could really do was pick it up off the floor."

_I should have done that,_ Revan thought. She realized that she was kneeling on the floor with one boot on and immediately felt foolish. "It's all right," she said, scooting back to her own bunk and turning her attention back to her boots. "She wasn't attached to anything. Jedi don't value possessions." _Except the holocube_. "Did you find that picture of her father?"

"No. . .not even pieces." Mission sounded unusually subdued. "Maybe the Sith stole it. . .or maybe it'll turn up. I hope so. I know she'll want it back when. . ." Her voice wavered uncertainly.

For once, Revan couldn't think of any way to reassure her. "We'll see," she said ambiguously. "That'll be your job once we've docked—inventory everything on the ship and find out what the Sith took and what they left behind."

"Okay!" Mission said, but her brightness sounded forced.

"And, Mission. . .you did very well. I was too. . .I didn't tell you so before, but you saved us all." Revan didn't know if she could manage a smile, but she tried, even as she wondered why. "I don't think anybody on this crew will ever underestimate you again."

The young Twi'lek beamed with undisguised pride for a moment, then quickly looked away. "Yeah, well. . .I always knew I was good. Now everybody else does, too." She fidgeted with the tails of her _lekku_. "I'll go tell Big Z you're on your way," she said quickly. "Don't forget your other boot!"

Five Wookies with bowcasters were waiting on the old Czerka platform, but they relaxed as Zaalbar and Revan walked down the exit ramp.

"**Liberator**," growled one. **"We are glad to see you still live, and the chieftain's son as well**." He bared his teeth at Zaalbar in a friendly grin. "**Your father will be glad to hear of your return, bearer of Braca's blade.**"

"**I cannot stay**," Zaalbar replied. "**I am still bound by my life-debt, and Czerka's masters still live**."

"You should go to Freyr," Revan told him. "Explain what has happened, and why you will not be returning right now."

"**I will obey**," said Zaalbar, and she could read the happiness in his voice and posture, "**But I will return soon. You will need my help to repair the ship**."

"No hurry," she said. "We'll be here for a few days." She looked up at the Ebon Hawk, scarred by laser fire, and touched the outer bulkhead sympathetically. _It's all right, my beauty. We'll get you patched up._ She turned back to the exit ramp, where most of the crew had gathered. "Carth, I want you to check every system. Look for any bugs or tracking devices the Sith may have left on board. Get Mission if you need help decrypting anything. Mission, you already know what your job is." Mission nodded. "Jolee, Juhani—as soon as Mission finishes with the inventory, replenish any missing food or medical supplies as best you can. In the meantime, help her with the clean-up. Canderous, HK, you two take the weapons systems. Be sure to double-check the targeting scanners."

"Right," said Canderous with an eagerness out of proportion for the routine maintenance he'd been assigned. Revan frowned. The Mandalorian had had a new light in his eyes ever since they'd escaped the Leviathan. _I'll have to see what that's about. . .but later._

"T3," she continued. "You and I will start working on the damage to the outer hull. Bring a toolbox up the lift, please." The astromech unit whistled in acknowledgment and trundled off. The rest of her crew made motions or sounds of agreement and dispersed. She slumped, losing a tension she hadn't even noticed until it disappeared.

_I don't want to be around them,_ she realized. _None of them make sense anymore, except the droids. _T3 was too new to have developed much of a personality, and HK-47's unrestrained delight at recovering his master was understandable. . .but. . . Jolee, Zaalbar, and Mission seemed completely indifferent to her new self, and even that was less perplexing than the strange, subdued joy she sensed in Canderous and Juhani. _At least Carth is consistent._ His renewed hostility was almost comforting. _Still don't want to talk to him, though._

She drew upon the Force and jumped onto the top of the ship. The external damage wasn't bad: a few fried power couplings, some loose panels and exposed wiring, and one completely trashed shield buffer. _Enough to keep me busy for a while, anyway. _A few hours of mindless labor had always done more for her peace of mind than any amount of Jedi meditation. Dismissing her companions and her own lingering worries, she got to work.

She was halfway done stripping the damaged buffer of its salvageable components when the mechanical whir of the lift interrupted her. She recognized Juhani's presence even before she came into view, and nearly sighed.

"Forgive me," the Cathari said as she emerged from the interior of the ship. "I can sense your need to be alone, and I would not disturb you, but you have not eaten." Almost shyly, she produced an unopened ration pack. Revan reached for it automatically. Juhani was right, she realized with dull surprise. She hadn't eaten since. . .she couldn't recall. Suddenly ravenously hungry, she wiped her grimy hands on the knees of her jumpsuit and tore the package open.

"Thanks," she said hoarsely. "I forgot." She kept her attention fixed on prying the vacuum-sealed wrappers open and hoped that Juhani would go away.

So of course, the other woman sat down beside her.

"I thought you said you didn't want to disturb me," Revan said flatly.

"Perhaps I should not," Juhani said quietly. "It is only. . .I cannot leave you to suffer."

"I'm not suffering."

Juhani looked at her evenly. "I can feel your pain, Revan. Rage and sorrow and despair, for yourself, and for others. It is. . .familiar."

Revan stuffed a protein bar into her mouth to smother a scornful reply—not because she wanted to spare Juhani's feelings, but but because any sign of emotion would only prolong their encounter. _If I stay quiet and nod, maybe she'll go away. . ._

"I do not mean to say that our pain is equal," Juhani said quickly, "But I have lost much in my life: my parents, my freedom, my home. . . myself. When I fell, I spent two years hating myself for what I had become—and for ever dreaming I could be anything else. And then you came."

It was too much. Revan forced the dry food down her throat. "I do not hate Revan," she said roughly. "I don't even know who she is. Was. Whatever." _But I will. Everything that was taken from me, I will recover_, she swore. She took a long drink to wash down the last of her barely-chewed food.

"Perhaps I can help you," Juhani said. Revan looked at her suspiciously. _Is she timing this so my mouth is full and I can't interrupt?_ she wondered. "I have told you of how I was freed. . .how you freed me on Taris. Do you remember?" Revan nodded. "I saw you there. You were not the one who opened my cage, but you. . .Revan. . .was there. She was. . ."

"Did she look like me?" Sereyna heard herself ask.

Juhani shook her head. "I never saw her face. She wore a mask, gloves, a hood. But I remember her presence." She smiled at the memory. "She did not look at me with pity. I remember how calm she was, how resolved. No anger, only determination. The slavers cowered before her, and she did not even draw her lightsaber. It was like nothing I had seen before, or since. . .though sometimes, you come close." She looked fondly at Sereyna, and Sereyna looked hastily down at her hands. "Perhaps that is why you were able to reach me in the grove. Perhaps some part of me recognized you, and knew you had come once again to save me from despair."

There were so many things wrong with Juhani's speech that it was impossible to know where to begin correcting her. Sereyna fiddled with the cuffs of her sleeves instead and let her reminisce.

"She told me. . .what were the exact words?" Juhani mused. "She told me that I was brave, and strong in the Force. She told me that, if she were not going to war, she would have brought me with her. And then she forced the slaver who had bought me to give me everything he had payed for me. She gave me the means to escape Taris." She sighed. "I do not know what drove Revan to darkness. Maybe I never will. But when I met her. . .when I met _you_, you were the best of the Jedi. A true servant of the light."

"But I changed." Sereyna—_No! Revan, I am Revan, Sereyna never was!_—said unwillingly.

"Perhaps not so much as you think," the other replied. "I have witnessed your disgust for slavers more than once during our journey together. Here on Kashyyyk, you freed the Wookies—"

"I was helping Zaalbar."

"—And the merchant who was unfairly indebted," Juhani continued serenely. "I know how you must yearn to recover your true self, but I think. . .perhaps. . .you never lost her. You were not always Revan of the Sith. And Sereyna of the Jedi is much like the Revan _I _remember."

"I am _not_ a servant of the light," Revan said fiercely. "I was a pawn." _As you are, even now clinging to Jedi after all they did to you. They deceived you and abandoned you, and you love them for it. I will not do that. It is pathetic._

Juhani's compassionate gaze made Revan want to slap her. "You have never been a pawn. You have always chosen your own path."

"Have I?" she said bitterly. "You can't know that. Neither can I." _And that's what's driving me crazy._

"Yes, I can," Juhani insisted. "I believe it. . .I believe in _you._ That is why, when you told us who you are, I was not dismayed. When I thought you dead, I mourned. But to have you back again. . ." She laughed, giving voice to her joy. "Revan, I. . .I am glad to be your companion. I will not abandon you. Whatever you choose, I will follow you as best I can. I know you will not lead me astray."

_Then you are a fool,_ Revan thought.

_A useful fool_, whispered a calculating voice in the back of her mind. _True loyalty is not earned lightly. Do not dismiss it. _She heeded the warning of the cold voice and said nothing, though she wanted to scream at Juhani for her naivety.

"I hope that this helps you," Juhani said, after almost a minute of silence. "I will leave you to your work now. . .and your meal." Revan realized she was still clutching the half-eaten ration bar. She'd forgotten she was supposed to be eating.

"I. . .appreciate it," she said grudgingly, and realized that the words were almost true. She was glad to know something about her true self, even if it was the highly colored memory of a starstruck adolescent. _Sereyna always hated slavers. That much was truly mine_. "I just need some time to think."

"I understand," the Cathari said. "I will not disturb you again. . .but if you wish to talk. . ."

_I won't. _She nodded acknowledgment and stuffed the rest of the ration bar in her mouth.


End file.
